


Bliss

by Markovia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, POV, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markovia/pseuds/Markovia
Summary: "I'd set my grand designs on becoming the ultimate, the most powerful, feared wizard, the Heir, the Master of Death, the Lord - but here, I was just Tom." (Smut, Tom's POV)





	

"I've never-"

"You've never what?" she replied, her hands smoothing down over my chest, softly opening the buttons of my shirt. She pushed the garment from my arms, and let it flutter to the floor, another layer she'd torn off and discarded like it didn't matter. Like she'd done this before, like she'd become familiar with picking apart her lovers until she saw their bare bones, nothing more, and not caring. Her hands splayed out over my chest, barely there, barely a whisper of a touch. I shuddered under the cool sensation that her fingertips brought, goosebumps erupting over my shoulders as she carelessly circled different areas of my body. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh, reveling in the odd, unfamiliar feeling of being touched, caressed, of feeling something that wasn't nothing.

"I've never done..." I trailed off, opening my eyes to look down at her. She was stood so close, her bare skin touching my own, her mad curls fluffed framing her strangely passive features. Her ease terrified me, and a sudden panic grew in my stomach that she would laugh - she would laugh at me because I was a boy, just a boy who knew nothing about... _this._ Because I'd set my grand designs on becoming the ultimate, the most powerful, feared wizard, the Heir, the Master of Death, the Lord - but here, I was just Tom. She looked up at me and quirked an eyebrow slightly, forcing me from my hesitance. "I've never done anything like this before."

I stiffened and waited for her reaction. No laughter came, just the soft feeling of her lips against the base of my neck, her hands roaming up my back to settle in my hair. A new feeling worked its way through my body - I had no idea how to describe it - it fizzed like lemon sherbet and burnt with each kiss upon my neck. She tugged on it slightly, and guiding the pair of us backwards, until my knees hit the back of the bed and forced me to sit. She straddled my lap, her naked body pressing into me as close as she could possibly make it.

As she brought her kisses to my lips, my mind clouded with frustration. There was no magic to be worked here, I didn't know what to do - my hands remained limp at my sides, though they ached to touch her, to feel her skin, to maybe elicit some of these feelings within her. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she pulled her hips up slightly, before grinding back down into my pelvis. I couldn't hold back the breathy groan that escaped into her mouth - she seemed to like that, I could feel her smile against my lips. I pulled back, wary of what to do, if she would let me touch her, if what I was doing was stupid, wrong, juvenile-

"You are allowed to touch me, Tom," she said, nudging her nose against mine. A small smile played around her lips, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. "In fact, I would wholeheartedly approve of that."

I looked at her, dazed slightly. She would approve of that - well, that was a sign for me to...I raised my hands from the bed an inch or two, but paused. Where on earth should I begin? I knew the female anatomy, I knew the basic areas to provide sexual stimulation, but -

Hermione chuckled slightly under her breath and pressed her lips softly against mine again. Only quickly, and as she pulled back I almost tried to follow. Her hands moved down my shoulders, wrapped around my own and then she moved them up to settle on her thighs. "Tom," she whispered, hand sneaking up to tug the back of my hair once more. "Touch me."

A breath caught in my throat. It was her order, the way she took control that made my mind jolt. I could not let this witch have the upper hand, even in a realm where her knowledge clearly surpassed my own. A dark idea sprang to mind, and I couldn't hold back, not anymore, not anymore. My fingers clenched her thighs tightly, fingernails digging into her skin hard enough to leave marks. She jumped slightly at the sudden pain, and her hips bucked violently into me.

"Beg," I managed to say, voice hoarse from her movements.

Hermione stared down at me, eyes widening at my request - no, _order._ "I-" she began.

My mask was slipping. A new, unfamiliar growl left my lips and I snaked my hand up her back to pull her hair down, exposing her neck to me. The tendrils caught and tangled around my fingers, and it must have hurt if her pained mews were anything to go by. Excitement took over; a smirk spread across my lips as I moved another hand up over her thigh, to stroke over her hipbone, then down to feel her cunt. She let out a sharp breath as my fingers trailed slowly over her outer lips, up and down, repeatedly. I wanted her to go mad with desire, I wanted her to yearn, to plead for me just as I had felt for her.

"I said: beg," I repeated, ghosting my lips over the base of her neck just as she had done to me. She shuddered as my breath hit her skin, and arched her back slightly, chest jutting forward in the process. At her stubborn silence, I leaned forward and latched my teeth onto the swell of her breast, biting and sucking hard enough to elicit another soft whimper from her. Strangely, and unexpectedly, I felt moisture soaking my fingers after this mistreatment, so I moved back and raised an eyebrow toward her. With a harsh jolt, I tugged her hair upwards, so she was looking straight toward me. Her eyes were glazed over, mouth agape slightly, and her cheeks were flushed a deep shade of crimson.

"Did you enjoy that?" I asked, not to tease her, but out of genuine fascination. She hesitated, but eventually nodded as best she could under the grip of my fingers. Voldemort laughed, and overtook Tom's shuddering naivety completely, and I pulled her closer to me, growling again when her hips ground heavily into mine. I kissed her, unlike any other kiss we had shared, all careful and kind inclinations lost to the madness of the man in my head, instead rough, biting and forceful, tongue delving in her mouth, capturing her moans and cries. She shrieked into the kiss when I moved my fingers inside of her, curling and touching, experimenting to see what would gain the greatest reaction. Her wetness was soaking my hand, trickling down my fingers and eventually dripping onto the floor. With each thrust of my hand she writhed in my lap, screamed what I thought was my name into my mouth. Her little body began to shudder, and I felt her cunt rhythmically tighten around my fingers - so I ceased, and pulled them out, settling that hand once again on her thigh.

Hermione stared at me, wide eyed, short breaths rattling through her lungs at a rapid rate. Her eyes were dilated, and a sheen of sweat was visible over her skin. "Why-"

I twisted our bodies around, so her back was on the bed, and I was positioned over her. The smirk disappeared - I wasn't able to think straight, I needed her, I wanted whatever she would give, I _begged_ \- "Hermione, please-"

"Just shut up and take your trousers off," she breathed, her hands working quickly over my belt buckle and releasing it from its catch.

I grinned widely, and followed her lead once more, pushing the black dress trousers down over my hips. My actions had turned clumsy again, my palms were sweating in anticipation as I settled between her thighs. She leaned forward, capturing my lips in a soft, gently kiss, before she guided me into her cunt. I closed my eyes - the feeling, of tight, hot, wet, _fuck-_

When it was over, and the euphoria had left me, I looked at the exhausted witch beside me and ran my fingers lightly over the vicious bite marks that littered her body. Her lips looked raw, I tasted blood on them when I placed my mouth against hers. A number of bruises were forming around her wrists, her neck, her thighs. Tom told me to apologize, that this brutality was wrong. Voldemort reminded me of the screams of ecstasy each mark had brought from her. In the afterglow, she turned and smiled, she kissed my lips gently and ran her hands through my hair. I felt no guilt, or anger - just bliss.


End file.
